


Those to care for

by DiverseMediums



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 08:25:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13186194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiverseMediums/pseuds/DiverseMediums
Summary: This is a one shot I wrote for the 2017 Outlander Secret Santa gift exchange. I was given the prompt of:I would LOVE to receive a fic about Jamie and Lord John - could be Ardsmuir, Helwater or colonial times, maybe even some canon deviation story. The main focus would be in their complicated and yet close relationship - not angling for some complete OOC behaviour or weird stuff here… Just that I find their relationship so compelling and interesting in all its honesty and mutual respect.





	Those to care for

This one shot takes place on Fraser’s Ridge, sometime after MOBY. I’ve never written LJG before so I’m super nervous lol. Hope you enjoy!  
***

Fraser’s Ridge, Christmas time

-

Jamie Fraser stared at the chessboard, contemplating the oddity of the last few days as much as his opponent’s king. He could hear the wind outside, pleased that the house was sound enough to keep the chill at bay. 

“You’re sure you want to make that move?” John Grey asked conversationally. 

Jamie glanced at him, feeling the twinge of unpleasant emotions and memory that came with it, but answered blandly enough. 

“Aye. I do.”

“Damn,” John replied, searching for a way to escape the vice his opponent skillfully set for him.  
Jamie let out a breath, slowly, forcing his mind and body to relax and focus. The surprise arrival of Lord John Grey had been bittersweet; William, Denzel, and Dottie had come with him. Despite the lingering rage and jealousy after all that had happened, Jamie had gone from forcing himself to accept the circumstances of his apparent death at sea (and all that happened afterwards) to resigning himself that all got on without him as best they could. He was a man who could forgive, but not one to forget. 

William had been cordial and polite, a representation of his upbringing. He was careful, not quite at home as Jamie wished him to feel. Still, the circumstances with Jane had created something between them beyond fond memories of MacKenzie the groom and the downfall of all William had known himself to be. Now, they were bound by something different. Jamie prayed daily for God’s mercy on his son’s heart, as He’d delivered Jamie’s own, years ago, in a small Scottish croft near the hill of a fairy dun. 

The children were tucked safe in bed and all was quiet, save the soft tap of the chess pieces on the table and the rustling of his wife and daughter’s skirts as they gathered various stockings for the mantle. Jamie smiled as they began to adorn the mantle with cedar branches. 

Claire stood on tiptoe, reaching to swipe a cobweb off the wall lest it ruin the festive nature of their decorations. It was a moment in time where all else ceased to matter and Jamie found himself transfixed, mind and heart and soul melding with the sweet lines of her body and the glow of the fire in her hair. She caught his eye, a smile on her lips and a burning in her eyes that had his heart thumping double time in his chest. 

Like that was it?

“What on earth are they doing?” John asked in an undertone. 

Jamie tore his eyes away from his wife’s sweet round arse (taunting him, as usual, as she went about her business) and coughed. 

“D’ye mind the dinners we would have at Ardsmuir?”

John raised an eyebrow. “I might remember such an occasion, yes.”

“D’ye recall once that we spoke of traditions? Yuletide and Hogmanay?”

John looked blank for a moment, then his eyes lit with recognition. 

“You once asked me if it was usual for Englishmen to hang stockings by the fire,” he said, eyes drawn to the women again. “I’d asked where you’d heard of that notion and you said it was a tradition your wife told you of. Is that what they are about, then?”

“Aye,” Jamie replied, eying John across the chessboard. “Where they are from, it is tradition to hide wee gifts and sweets in the stockings.”

Where they are from. That certainly hit something, as evidenced by John’s eyes snapping back to his. Jamie knew Brianna had told John about where she was from. What they could do. He had a mind to see what John himself thought of the notion. John kept his face carefully blank but nodded in acknowledgement. Whether he believed it or no, he now understood that Jamie did. 

“I seem to recall another tradition you told me of,” he said lightly, steering the conversation into shallower waters. “Something about a first foot? It’s your move, by the way.”

Jamie accepted the change of subject, remembering that night as he contemplated the pieces on the table. He held his cup, the aroma of the whisky and the soft voices of his women across the room keeping his mind from fully re entering the dark prison cells of Ardsmuir.

He’d had his usual quick wash and shave; his cheeks burned red as the guard led him up to the governor’s quarters. The smell of mutton had his stomach grumbling and the promise of drink made him swallow. The door to Lord John’s room was opened but he hesitated to enter. 

“Ah, Mr. Fraser, do come in,” John had said, motioning him into the room. 

“Well, Major, I dinna ken if ye want me to do that just yet. Ye may want the guard here to precede me.”

John blinked. 

“Whatever for?”

“It is Hogmanay, Major.”

“Oh?”

“A Scottish tradition. The first through the door will bring luck, good or ill, upon the house for the next year. Dark haired first foots are best but ye make do wi’ what you have.”

“Mr. Fraser, are you implying that your very presence at my doorstep is an ill omen?” John asked, eyebrows raised. 

Jamie’s mouth twitched. 

“I’m sorry for it Major. Although, if ye’d rather try a hand at yer own fate…” 

Jamie had glanced at the chessboard then back, eyebrow raised. John huffed out a laugh, waving for the guard to leave them. 

“Please sit, Mr. Fraser. I shall take my chances.”

John laughed, memory burning in his eyes, bright as the hearth fire across the room. Jamie rarely wondered about what John thought of their time together at Ardsmuir. Truthfully he couldn’t bring himself to think of it after what had transpired between them. Now though, after so much time and happenstance…. 

“Do you find your life greatly burdensome?” he asked. 

John paused, meeting his eyes. Beneath the calm mask were the eyes of the man who had sat across from him that night asking the same question of him. But that was far away and long ago and neither were the same two any longer. 

“Perhaps not greatly so,” John said. “I’ve those to care for, after all.”

“Mmmph,” Jamie responded, amused and moved altogether. He gazed at Claire and Brianna again, mind reaching out to embrace William, Fergus, Marsali, his grandchildren, Young Ian, Rachel, Jenny, his tenants, his friends…. aye he’d plenty of care. Now, unlike then, he could help those dearest to him and that alone filled him with joy. 

“You are fortunate in Claire,” John said suddenly, almost too soft to hear. 

The words hit him unexpectedly and Jamie took a sip of whisky to cover whatever expression may have passed over his face. Ian had written those words to him once in a letter, years ago, upon their initial arrival to America. Jamie carried Ian with him always; heard his voice sometimes even. It was strange to sense him so strongly now, but why not? Their families were here, safe, and loved.

“Aye. I am, that.”  
***

Later, John Grey watched as Jamie made his way up the stairs. Claire and Brianna had gone to bed some time past, leaving the men to finish their chess match alone. While never putting his stock in fate, John could not deny the coincidental circumstances that created the spider’s web of connections amongst those present. Without them, much would have changed. 

Do you find your life greatly burdensome?

No. Despite the pain and heartache and confusion, John would not have changed his knowing James Fraser. While their friendship was still connected by a hesitant strand, there was time enough to restore it. John looked up the stairs again, thinking of Claire. Yes, she was a woman worthy of Jamie… and he, her. John could not wish for more of those he cared for than that.


End file.
